


Cabin in the Woods

by Dragongoddess13



Series: I had a Fear of Being Alone [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Beginnings, Cabin Fic, Christmas, Darcy is the fandom bicycle and I love it, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Phil Coulson Has the Patience of a Saint, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, SHIELD Agent Darcy Lewis, SHIP DARCY WITH ALL THE THINGS, Snow, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 14:24:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4567857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragongoddess13/pseuds/Dragongoddess13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snow covered everything; drifts piled high dotting the landscape. The crisp air frosted the windows sealing them shut until spring. In a small wooded area where the pine trees towered like skyscrapers, a small cabin sat snow drenched; smoke billowing steadily from the chimney. Agent Brock Rumlow stood, relaxed, but the roaring fire, the hearth a glow with falling embers. Every so often Rumlow would take a sip from the coffee mug in his hand, adjusting his stance as he starred into the fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cabin in the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> This is story number three in the "I had a fear of being alone" series, continued from the 30 day cheesy trope challenge.  
> This is only beta'd on the basic level i.e. automatic spell check.

Cabin in the Woods

Story 3

xXx

Snow covered everything; drifts piled high dotting the landscape. The crisp air frosted the windows sealing them shut until Spring. In a small wooded area where the pine trees towered like skyscrapers, a small cabin sat snow drenched; smoke billowing steadily from the chimney. Agent Brock Rumlow stood, relaxed, by the roaring fire, the hearth a glow with falling embers. Every so often Rumlow would take a sip from the coffee mug in his hand, adjusting his stance as he starred into the fire.

It was early morning and Rumlow was just debating whether or not to whip up some breakfast when he heard the distant sound of a car rolling down the snow covered road toward the cabin. Rumlow set the mug down on the mantle and turned toward the front of the cabin. He stopped in the window, watching as the little yellow cab parked. After about a minute the back door opened and Darcy stepped out, duffle bag hanging off her shoulder. He smirked watching her trudge through the snow up to the front door.

Before she could knock he pulled the door open smirking down at her as her disgruntled expression shifted when she notices his bare chest and low slung sweat pants. Rumlow pulled her out of whatever thoughts were running through her head when he reached forward and took her bag for her. He then stepped back into the cabin leaving the door open.

Rumlow heard the door close behind him as he set her bag inside the bedroom door. He turned back to find her removing her boots and setting them beside his own. Her coat came off next and it was hung on the hook above the shoes along with her scarf and hat. She turned to him when she was done and he took the chance to finally get a good look at her. Beneath the overstuffed coat she wore a dark knit sweater and worn blue jeans.

While he was looking her over, Darcy’s attentions were on the cabin. Almost the entire cabin was fit into one room. Kitchen Living room and small dining room separated from each other by the particular placement of furniture. The only exceptions were the bedroom which she could see through the open door across from her and the bathroom to the left. When she’d seen all she’d thought there was to see she turned her attentions back to Rumlow, only to find him starring at her.

“So.” She began pulling him from whatever thought he was focused on. “Very cozy.”

“It is.” He replied stepping toward the kitchen. “Coffee?” he offered.

“God yes.” Was her reply. He chuckled stopping in front of the small coffee pot and pouring a mug full; fixing it the way she liked. He turned back to her and handed her the steaming cup, watching amused as she cupped the mug in her hands and inhaled dramatically.

“How was the trip up here?” he asked as she took a long drink.

“It was okay.” She replied taking a seat on the sofa in front of the fire. Rumlow followed sitting next to her and allowing her to put her feet up on his lap. “The airport was packed and it took forever to get a cab and then when I finally got one the driver got all pissed when I told him where I wanted to go. I practically had to beg him not to throw me out of the car.” She shook her head. “But I’m okay, got here safely and I’m ready for a nice relaxing vacation.”

Rumlow huffed. “Big change from two days ago. You were pretty upset to have to take time off.” She shrugged.

“I’ve decided to make the best of it.” She explained.

“Oh and I’m the best of it I suppose? I mean you did decide to come up here for our rare mandatory vacation.”

“Maybe.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. He chuckled. “The scenery, despite my aversion to the cold and snow is pretty great too.”

“If you’re so against the cold you should see this place in other seasons, especially Spring and Autumn.”

“I bet it’s beautiful.” She replied smiling softly.

“There’s a small water pool not a far from here where we can go swimming.”

“We?” she asked sitting up to look at him.

“Yeah, we.” He replied matter of fact.

“And what makes you think I’d want to come back up here with you?” He smirked at her.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t?”

“I might consider it.” She told him loftily. "Let's see how this week goes first." He shook his head.

“Whatever you say sweetheart.”

xXx

For the rest of the day Darcy allowed herself to be immersed in a novel while Rumlow dozed, entangled around her. Every so often he would get up and move around the cabin, refilling their coffee or poking at the fire. At one point he went outside to pull some more wood off the stack in the small wood shed and returned to place it beside the fire. He then proceeded to crawl up next to Darcy and bury his freezing cold hands under the hem of her sweater. She squealed and squirmed trying to get away from him but he just held her closer, trapping her against him back to chest.

When Darcy realized she wasn’t going anywhere she stopped squirming letting out a whine. “Brock.” She complained. “Your hands are cold.” He chuckled low and deep, leaning over her shoulder and resting his chin there.

“And you’re so warm.” He told her.

“Well I was.” she clicked her teeth together dramatically simulating the chills. His warm breath ghosting over her ear as he silently laughed. She really did shiver at that, holding back a groan as he ran his hands over her abdomen. She felt his lips at the back of her neck before he pulled away completely.

“How about dinner; you hungry?” he asked the glint in his eye telling her he knew exactly what he had done. She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders refusing to let him see her ruffled feathers.

“Sure, sounds good.” She replied nonchalant as she turned back to her book. He didn’t reply as he moved to the kitchen and began preparing a hearty stew to combat the cold. Ninety minutes later he reappeared beside her with a bowl of stew and a glass of wine.” When she took a hold of both, Brock returned to the kitchen and gathered his own bowl and glass before returning to her side and taking a seat on the couch beside her. They ate quietly and when they were finished Darcy insisted on cleaning up; it was the least she could do after he went to all the trouble of making such a delicious meal.

Brock relented and Darcy set to work putting away leftovers and scrubbing up the bowls, utensils and pots. With her back to the living room and her mind free to wander Darcy found her thoughts centered on a particular Strike Team Leader and the ridiculously complicated relationship that seemed to grow all the more confusing since their involuntary stay on a deserted island in the South Pacific Sea. It was no secret that Darcy had not wanted to go on that mission; in fact she had been very vocal in her desire to remain out of the field. Darcy was, if nothing else, self-aware and there was nothing she was more self-aware about than her lack of hand eye coordination; something required of field agents. So when Coulson insisted she go out on the supposedly simple mission, she’d been very resistant.

Darcy was a handler/Analyst, her job was, simply put, to run operations for her team from mission control and to make sure her team was taken care of when not on missions. None of that ever meant going out in the field with them or putting herself in the line of fire (not that she wouldn’t take a bullet for her team both literally and figuratively). She wasn’t a field agent, she was a paper pusher and she was very okay with that.

But of course she should have known better than to expect she could remain in her comfort zone without someone trying to set her off balance. It would of course be Coulson who gave her a firm shove. He had made it quite clear that Darcy did not have enough field experience (near death experiences aside) and that it would be good for her to get out of her office and see her team in action in person. She’d fought valiantly but in the end Coulson put his foot down, pulled rank and within a week she was packed up in a Quinjet with Rumlow at the controls.

The mission had actually gone off without a hitch; a complete success. So of course it was only appropriate that they would run into trouble and get shot out of the sky on their way back to base.

Three months stranded on a deserted island probably could have gone worse. She had no doubt, had she been there alone she wouldn’t have made it. In fact that very thought fueled her nightmares for months both on and off the island. She could still remember vividly waking up on the island while Rumlow was walking the perimeter and having to remind herself that Brock was there, that she wasn’t alone.

Darcy couldn’t exactly pin point the moment in her life when being alone became an actual fear but she was almost sure it was somewhere around the time she met Jane. She had grown up in foster care, running away when she realized she was too old to find a real home. She had been alone through most of the life she could remember so it only made sense that she would be okay by herself. It also made perfect sense that after getting used to taking care of Jane and Eric and then both of them eventually finding out about her own past that led them to sort of adopt her themselves, that she would slowly lose her ability to tolerate being alone.

“Those must be some thoughts your havin’ kid.” Rumlow’s voice roused her from her mental ramble. “You’ve been scrubbin’ that pot for ten minutes now.” She looked down at the pot soaking in the sink, the suds from the dish soap mostly gone. She lifted the pot, ran it under the running water before setting it in the draining board. She dried her hands and then turned to find Rumlow back in the living room, standing beside a small nest of blankets and pillows he’d put together in front of the fire place.

“What’s all this?” she asked, coming around the small counter to stand at the edge of the blanket. Rumlow shrugged.

“I just thought it might be nice to stretch out. We’ve been cooped up on the sofa all day.” She smiled softly at him.

There he goes again; acting a complete mystery, an enigma. One minute he’s Rumlow, field team leader of one of the most elite S.H.I.E.L.D. teams, the next he’s Brock, feet propped up on her desk teasing her about her obsession with Avengers memorabilia (“Seriously kid, who needs that many different Hulk t-shirts.” “Shut your face Brock, Hulk is my bro.”)

From the very beginning Rumlow was the one she knew she needed on her side and from day one she knew he wasn’t. How could he be, she was basically a child compared to them when it came to experience. Who was she to change their dynamic? She was lucky enough that they had given her a bit of leeway when she started but unfortunately it took risking her own job standing to really get him to trust her.

She remembered the first day after the WSC hearing; she found a fresh cup of her favorite coffee waiting for her on her desk. At first she assumed it was Hill, no one disliked the council more than the director herself, so she happily drank the coffee as she got to work. The next day she found the same and the day after that a muffin to go with it. By day five she was fairly certain Hill wasn’t leaving her these things.

She got confirmation on day 6 when Rumlow walked in, coffee in hand, startled to see her sitting at her desk so early in the morning.

“Huh, so you’re the coffee fairy.” She greeted him. He scowled partly confused.

“You’re in early.” He finally replied ignoring her barb.

“I technically never left.” She said making grabby hands at the coffee. He handed it over and she took a long drink from it. She set it beside her and turned her attention back to the paperwork she’d been toiling away on since lunch the previous day. After a moment of concentration she suddenly realized Rumlow was still there standing in front of her desk. She looked up to find him starring off behind her, most likely at the photo of her Jane, Eric and Thor.

“Agent Rumlow?” she called out breaking him from his thoughts. He looked down at her. “Can I help you with something?” he ignored the question.

“What are you working on?” he took a seat in the chair across the desk.

“The incident reports for the latest mission.” She told him taking another drink. He looked confused again.

“Wasn’t everything taken care of at the hearing?” she snorted in bitter amusement.

“The WSC has made it passive aggressively clear that they did not appreciate my blow up at the hearing. I’ve got…” she checked her watch. “Two more hours to finish these reports or I shudder to think what will happen.” She rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed and turned back to her work.

A few more minutes went by before Darcy realized he was still there, sitting across the desk. She looked up, he looked back. When neither of them said anything Rumlow sat back, making himself comfortable.

An hour and thirty minutes later Darcy set her pen down and stretched the tension from her shoulders. She then gathered up the papers and stuck them in a folder. Before she could get up though, Rumlow was there taking the folder from her.

“What are you doing?” she asked as he made it to the door. He pulled the door open and stopped in the frame. He turned slightly looking over his shoulder at her.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about the council.”

He left before she could say anything else. She had no idea what happened with the Council that day but she received confirmation that her reports had been accepted, filed and she heard nothing about it again.

After that he was never too far. Not in a stalker sort of way, but she knew he had her back. He trusted her to take care of him and his men.

“Give me a minute to change.” She finally replied moving toward the bedroom. Darcy changed into a pair of fleece pajama pants and an old Culver sweat shirt. She stepped back in moments later to find Rumlow setting two more glasses of wine on the end table. He looked up at her as she entered, holding back a snort at the sight of her florescent purple pants with little storm clouds and lightning bolts. She looked down at herself than back up sticking her tongue out at him. Rumlow chuckled gracefully sitting down in the nest of pillows and blankets. Darcy joined him accepting the glass of wine.

Darcy sipped from the glass then set it back on the table. She then lay down, cuddling into the fluffy pillows. Rumlow did the same with his glass before lying down beside her.

“So,” Darcy began turning on to her side to face him. “Why exactly did you invite me out here?” she asked. Rumlow starred up at the ceiling in silence for a few moments, then turned on his side as well.

“You said you had no plans for leave and it seemed like such a shame for you to be at home alone for two weeks.”

“Oh I see its pity then.” She replied slyly. He didn’t seem amused.

“Not even a little bit.”

Startled by the seriousness of his tone, Darcy looked away, her eyes landing somewhere around the middle of his chest. It was Rumlow’s gentle touch under her chin that made her look up at him again. She watched, eyes wide, as he slowly leaned toward her giving her time to pull away if she didn’t want this. She didn’t budge an inch letting him close the distance between them, sealing his lips to hers in a sweet, tender kiss that spoke of the passion he had for her.

She wanted that passion as much as he wanted to give it to her. So Darcy shifted closer pressing the line of her body to his own. He pulled away to breath finding satisfaction in the flush of her cheeks and the glaze of her beautiful blue eyes. She was breath taking.

“Brock.” Her voice was so soft; pleading and he wasted no time in returning to her. Her lips were soft and plaint beneath his own. He was reluctant to leave them as he trailed kisses down her neck and shoulder. The soft mewls of pleasure spurred him on and he lightly nudged at her shoulder pushing her onto her back so he could roll up over her.

She smiled up at him running her hands up his arms as he held himself up. He smirked, a small quirk of his lips. Slowly he lowered himself, resting his weight on her. She exhaled deeply at the pressure of his body, gasping as he shifted his hips between her legs, pressing forward and ensuring there was no doubt how much he wanted her.

“Who knew you were such a tease.” She gasped when he pressed forward again.

“I haven’t even begun, sweetheart.”

xXx

Darcy woke slowly to the light of early morning casting down on her nest on the floor. She’s warm and cozy and reluctant to move at all, but the nagging of something not right has made a home in her waking mind.

Darcy turned over reaching out for the body she knew should be there. When she grasped nothing she pried her eyes open to find herself alone, wrapped in the quilt from the back of the sofa. The cabin seemed to grow colder in that instant. She sat up looking around only to notice the dying embers in the fire place. Knowing full well that Rumlow wouldn’t leave the fire to dwindle so low, Darcy’s concern grew. She wrapped the quilt around her and stood, turning in a circle to see all angles of the cabin, confirming that she was in fact alone.

“Brock?” she called out. When she got no reply she made her way toward the front window beside the door. “Brock.” She whispered absently stopping behind the glass. She peered through, her heart dropping into her stomach. Instead of endless white snow she found golden sand settled around enormous palm trees. “That’s not right.” she breathed, heart racing, pounding in her ears. The anxiety she’d kept under wraps for months chipped away at the paper thin façade of her composure.

She didn’t realize she’d moved until she felt the warm sand shift between her toes, the quilt dragging behind her. “Brock?” she called out, desperation clear in her voice. This couldn’t be real, there was no way she was here, not after spending an amazing night on a snow covered mountain top in a cozy cabin with the guy she may or may not have been seriously attracted too.

They’d escaped the island, they’d been rescued. This wasn’t real, this couldn’t be real. Darcy looked over her shoulder to find the cabin gone, replaced by the thick jungle of the island that filled her nightmares. “No. No, No, No.” she chanted under her breath as she took stock of her person. Gone was the quilt, replaced with the S.H.I.E.L.D. issue jump suit. She looked back up, tears pricking at her eyes. “Brock, god Brock. Where are you?”

Darcy started walking, following the sound of crashing waves to the beach. With every step her anxiety tightened the knot in her chest. It was becoming more difficult to breath. As she got closer to the beach she could hear the hum of an engine over the rolling waves and she let her excitement get the better of her, running toward the sound.

Darcy darted around a tree and out on to the beach, stopping abruptly when she recognized the tacky yellow jumpsuits of the AIM agents who’d shot them down. She quickly ducked back behind the tree, crouching down to avoid being seen. She took slow deep breaths steadying her heart beat. When she was sure she would be alright she turned to peak out behind the tree only for the horror to reclaim her.

There, kneeling among the AIM agents, hands bound and the barrel of one of their rifles pressed to the back of his head; Brock Rumlow. “Where is your partner?” she heard one of the AIM agents ask. She has to strain to hear Rumlow’s reply.

“What partner?” she flinched at the crack of bone; fist connecting with face.

“Where is your partner?”

“I’m a specialist, I work alone.” Rumlow ground out through clenched teeth. The agent’s fist came down again and it took everything in Darcy not to scream out for him.

“Same question.” The bastards tone was methodical.

“Same answer.” The agent sighed, as if this whole situation was nothing but a simple inconvenience.

“Fine then.” The agent finally began. “You’ll die knowing that when we find her she will suffer for your insolence.”

Darcy watched, eyes wide as Rumlow looked up, refusing to die with his head hung low. He found her behind the tree down the beach, eyes steeled and resolute, begging her to run, to stay safe, to stay alive. She couldn’t look away as the barrel pressed harder into his skull.

The shot echoed in her ears as she shot up, a scream clawing its way out of her throat. She knew she was safe, it was just a horrible nightmare but she couldn’t stop the scream as they morphed into terrified distraught sobs.

The arms that came around her were like steel bands, grounding her to the present. She allowed them to pull her down, back into the soft, warm nest. “Slow, deep breaths sweetheart. It’s alright. You’re safe now. We’re safe.”

“Brock.” She whimpered burying herself in his embrace.

“Shhh.” He soothed. “You’re safe.”

xXx

“Do you have nightmares often?”

Darcy stared down at the steaming liquid warming her hands through the ceramic mug. “It’s been a little while since I’ve had one. I kind of thought they were over.”

“I see. So I bring out the best in you then.” She didn’t know what came over her but it felt good to laugh.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Rumlow chuckled, moving to sit on the other end of the sofa.

“Do they usually wake you so violently?” she shook her head.

“Most of the time I just wake up back on the island, like they never found us. I’m usually alone.”

“What was different this time?”

She hesitated to answer finding it difficult to meet his eye. “You were there…and the AIM agents.” She explained. She told him about the empty cabin and thinking that the night before had all been a dream. She told him about the agents on the beach and how he wouldn’t tell them where she was and they killed him for it; because of her.

“Hey, no.” Rumlow stopped her, closing the distance between them to kneel before her. “It’s not your fault. It would never be your fault. I would die before ever giving up any of my teammates, especially you. You don’t ever have to worry about that. I won’t ever let anything happen to you.”

“I know, that’s what worries Me.” she huffed. “I don’t want you to die because you have to play hero.” Rumlow chuckled.

“Sweetheart, I’ve never been a hero.” She shook her head.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Brock.” She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his.

Rumlow closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath to calm himself. When he opened his eyes again he found Darcy watching him and he couldn’t help but smile at her. He took her coffee and set it aside then turned back and scooped her up carrying her off into the bedroom.

 


End file.
